


Between the Shadow and the Soul

by DizzyDrea



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Romance, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Maria Hill was seven years old, she asked her grandmother—the only person she'd ever known with a soulmate—what it was like to be bonded to someone else. Her grandmother had smiled this sweet, tender smile and talked about safety and warmth and home, and to this day that's what Maria thinks of whenever she sees a soulbonded couple. But when she'd asked her grandmother why she'd quit a promising career, Gran had said it was for her husband. Maria had vowed then and there that she'd never be soulbonded to someone else if it meant giving up her independence.</p><p>Steve Rogers never knew anyone who'd been soul bonded. He knew that the chances of finding your soulmate were slim, and who'd want a scrawny, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn anyway. And then he'd met Peggy Carter. She was everything Steve had hoped for in a soulmate. Too bad she wasn't his, although it might have been a blessing in disguise. He couldn't image the pain in knowing that you'd found your soulmate only to lose them in the next moment. And when he woke up sixty years in the future, he figured he'd missed his chance. </p><p>So when it happens to them, it's both everything and nothing like they'd expected. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Shadow and the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my first try at this story. I'd originally started it a year ago for my Trope Bingo card, soulmates square. Unfortunately, my brain was still refusing to even let Captain America kiss a girl. I told my parents, it's not like he's a virgin, and as he said to Natasha, "I'm 95, not dead." Still, I couldn't get this to end the way I wanted it to, so I abandoned it. But this year's New Year's Resolution is to finish some of the fics I've got languishing on my hard drive. This was one of them, dusted off and finished in a way that's more true to the characters as they are written here. I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize for the total lack of kissing. I'll make sure there's plenty of it the next time I write these two.
> 
> ETA: I should really thank tielan for her comments to me on her story [No Fate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3436349). She talked about world-building, and how something like souldbonds would alter the way culture develops. So, I went back and fleshed out some of the things I'd written, keeping in mind her comments. This story is richer for her involvement.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Avengers and all its particulars are the property of Marvel Studios, Walt Disney Studios, Joss Whedon, and a lot of other people who aren't me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_  
_in secret, between the shadow and the soul._  
_Pablo Neruda, XVII_

~o~

When Maria Hill was seven years old, she asked her grandmother—the only person she'd ever known with a soulmate—what it was like to be bonded to someone else. Her grandmother had smiled this sweet, tender smile and talked about safety and warmth and home, and to this day that's what Maria thinks of whenever she sees a soulbonded couple. But when she'd asked her grandmother why she'd quit a promising career, Gran had said it was for her husband. Maria had vowed then and there that she'd never be soulbonded to someone else if it meant giving up her independence.

~o~

Steve Rogers never knew anyone who'd been soul bonded. He knew that the chances of finding your soulmate were slim, and who'd want a scrawny, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn anyway. And then he'd met Peggy Carter. She was everything Steve had hoped for in a soulmate. Too bad she wasn't his, although it might have been a blessing in disguise. He couldn't image the pain in knowing that you'd found your soulmate only to lose them in the next moment. And when he woke up sixty years in the future, he figured he'd missed his chance. 

~o~

So when it happens to them, it's both everything and nothing like they'd expected. 

~0~

The helicarrier is a mess. 

To be fair, Manhattan is a mess too, having taken the brunt of the invasion. But there are others who will see to the rebuilding of the city; Maria Hill's priority is the 'carrier. It's home to her, moreso than SHIELD HQ, more even than her small apartment. She's fought and bled, and would have died to protect it, so the least she can do is see to it that she's brought back to life.

She's walking the corridors, barely a day now since the Battle of Manhattan, making notes on the worst of the damage (and maybe even a few notes on how to keep this from happening again; it is her home, after all). She's not alone; Steve Rogers is walking beside her, a silent support that she's more than grateful for. Without him, she suspects she'd get lost in her own head, lost in the grief and anger, and she can't afford that, not when they're still so vulnerable.

"You're awfully quiet. Care to share?"

She glances at her companion, but Steve merely looks back, gaze steady and open. She knows she could talk about it, and she might even feel better afterwards, but right now feeling better won't help.

"I'm fine, Captain," she says instead. 

The look on his face tells her he doesn't believe her, but thankfully, he keeps his peace. 

They resume their silent trek through the ship, and if the air is more fraught than before, she tries to ignore it. She never sees the tech barreling around the corner, not paying any attention to where he's going as he runs right into her. His momentum pushes her right into Steve, and if he'd been any other man, they'd have ended up in a heap on the floor. As it is, the tech stumbles and crashes to the deck while Steve cradles Maria to him, one hand around her waist, the other holding the hand that used to hold the tablet.

She feels it then, the electric sizzle arcing across her every nerve, suffusing her with heat and making her dizzy, quickly followed by the nearly overwhelming flood of the First Sharing. Her eyes fly to Steve's as the tech picks himself up, calling out apologies as he charges down the corridor, oblivious to the life-changing moment he's just set in motion.

They stay like that, locked together for long minutes, and it's all Maria can do to simply breathe through it.

She stares up into the face of her soulmate, shock rippling through her at the very idea. She's never sought this out, never wanted it (has, in fact, worn gloves most of her adult life in order to prevent this very thing from happening, and it’s just sheer, dumb luck that today, when she chooses go without—the better to input data into her tablet without the ungainliness of gloved fingers—that it happens to her), but it's happened and she has no idea what to do with it. Waves of emotion crash over her; pain, confusion, anger, dismay, and it takes her a minute to realize that not all of it is hers. She straightens, pulling her hand (reluctantly, if she's honest with herself) out of Steve's. She bends down to pick up the lost tablet, then schools her face into an appropriately bland mask, closing that part of her mind that's now Steve's, and nods at him.

"If you'll excuse me, Captain."

And then she walks away.

~o~

Steve feels it like a punch to the gut, sensation radiating out from the center of his being before resolving into a throbbing miasma of memory and emotion that's twisted and tangled in his head. And then, blessed silence as Maria pulls away, ending the flood of emotion and leaving behind the echoes of memory as she walks away.

He has no idea how long he stands there, trying to sort through what's just happened.

He'd thought, back during the war, after Rebirth and the Howling Commandos and the Red Skull, that he and Peggy—well, he'd hoped she would be his soulmate, felt in his bones that they would be great together, the compliment to one another that they each needed.

Of course they weren't. That kiss, their first and last, put paid to that idea. He'd felt nothing, beyond the watery desperation of their last moments together. No punch to the gut, no electric zing or flood of memories or any of the dozens of other descriptions people had given after they'd met their soulmate. 

And he wasn't even bothered by that, not really. Well, he'd have liked it to be Peggy Carter, with her steely determination and fiery passion. But he also knew that it would have been hell on her, a pain he couldn't imagine and didn't really want to try, finding her soulmate only to have him ripped away in the moment of discovery. 

There'd never been any question that it was a one-way trip for him. They'd both known he wouldn't be coming back. The fact that he survived nearly seventy years under the ice is nothing short of a miracle, but something less than the blessing everyone makes it out to be.

Now, almost seventy years removed from everyone and everything he's ever loved, he finds his soulmate in the last place he ever expected. Fate, as they say, is a cruel mistress.

And, he thinks with bitter irony, he picked a helluva day to go without his gauntlets.

"Well, fuck," he mutters. 

When the same tech from before—the one who'd inadvertently set everything in motion—walks past again, giving him a strange look (because, really? He was in the Army; where else would he have learned to swear?) but not stopping in his haste to get wherever the hell he's going, Steve figures he's spent enough time trying to figure it all out.

~o~

After they send Thor and Loki back to Asgard, Steve climbs on his bike and heads west.

He specifically does not think about the person he's leaving behind.

~o~

"Why are you fighting it?"

Maria darts a glance to the side, but Director Fury's face is a mask, as if he hadn't just spoken.

"I don't—"

"Don't give me that," he says, harsh and forceful in a way only he can be while still muttering quietly so that their conversation isn't overheard.

They're standing on the bridge—well, what's left of the bridge after the techs have pretty much disassembled everything in sight—watching the progress of the repairs. If it makes the techs nervous to have the pair of them hovering, well, they're doing a good job of not letting it show. Mostly.

Fury's sigh tells her he isn't remotely finished with this conversation, and how the hell did he even know what happened, anyway? And then she realizes: her gloves. She's worn them since the day she signed on to SHIELD, and now, suddenly and without even thinking about it, she's stopped wearing them. She'd roll her eyes at herself for being so obvious if it wouldn't give her away to Fury. Still, she's not going to make this easy. It's her life, and if she chooses to ignore one—rather large—part of it, that's her business.

"What are you afraid of?"

And Nick Fury's business, apparently.

"Since when have you ever known me to be afraid of anything, _sir_?” she bites back. Two can play this game, after all.

"Oh, can it, Hill," he says. "You and I both know you're holding back. What I want to know is why."

"Is this somehow relevant to my job performance?" she asks.

"Yes, as a matter of fact it is."

"Yeah, right." 

"SHIELD Code, Section 35, subsection—"

"I know the Personal Conduct Code, sir," she says, more sharply than she intended to.

"Then you know that soulbonds must be reported within 72 hours. I don't see the relevant forms on my desk, so I have to wonder why that is."

There are a hundred different replies she could give, most of them flip or uncomplimentary, but she doesn't give voice to any of them. Instead, she sighs and gives in to the inevitable.

"SHIELD Code requires that field personnel be unbonded," she says into the ensuing silence. "If I report it, you'll take me out of the field. And you can't afford to do that."

Fury snorts. "Like you're going out into the field anytime soon." He pauses, and she knows what he's going to say next, but it still hurts to hear it. "I can't lose you right now, Maria. I need my right hand more than ever, now that I'm missing my one good eye. So fill out the damned form and be done with it."

"And if I'm needed out in the field?"

She's worked hard to get where she is, and she'll be damned if she'll let this be the thing that takes that away from her. Not even for Captain America.

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Fury turns and stalks off in a swirl of leather and an air of finality that Maria knows she can't argue with.

~o~

Steve stands at the rim of the Grand Canyon, staring out over the vast southwestern landscape. He's a little awed, to be honest. He'd known that the canyon was big, but he simply wasn't prepared for how big. It's a vast, seemingly unending landscape, and it makes him feel small in comparison.

There hasn't been anything that could do that in far too long.

He hears the repulsors long before he sees the sun glinting off metal, so it's no surprise when Iron Man drops down beside him. They stand side by side for a few minutes, watching as the breeze ruffles what little brush there is as birds fly overhead.

Eventually, Tony flips up his visor.

"Huh. Never seen this place up close. It's big."

Steve chuckles. "Yes, it is."

They stand quietly for another few minutes. Steve figures Tony didn't come all the way out here just to see the Grand Canyon, but he's content to just wait. Eventually he'll talk; with Tony, it's sort of like a compulsion.

"So, you done yet?"

And there it is. Steve shrugs. "Don’t know. Never was able to travel when I was younger. And with the war… not the kind of traveling I wanted to do."

"Yeah," Tony says. Steve can hear the traces of more than one ordeal in his voice. Because for all that Tony's seen the world—probably twice over—there are still parts of it that he'd rather not see again. "Listen, when you hit the coast, turn south and head for Malibu. JARVIS'll let you in the house. When you're ready to leave, there'll be a plane waiting to bring you home."

Home. It's a concept Steve hasn't known in a long time, but it's definitely appealing. To have a place to belong, people who care. But going home means facing the whole soulbond thing and he's not sure he's quite ready for that. He's two thousand miles from New York, and he's used every one of those miles to try to forget, or at least avoid thinking about it. So yeah, maybe Malibu would be nice.

"Thanks, Tony. I may take you up on that."

"Of course you will," Tony says, a sharp grin on his face. "My hospitality is legendary. Besides, she'll still be there when you get back."

Steve sputters. "She—what? What are you talking about?"

"Maria. The whole soulbond thing." Tony's talking with his hands, waving those gauntlets around so that Steve has to duck a little or risk getting smacked. Not that it'll do any permanent damage, but he'd still like to keep all his blood on the inside. "Personally, I never went in for all that 'one in a million' talk. You find someone you can reasonably tolerate and you try not to kill each other for the next fifty years. It worked for my parents. Well, mostly anyway. Not that I'm saying a soulbond is a bad thing. Just—"

"How do you know about that?" Steve asks, interrupting Tony's ramble.

"Really?" he asks, that all-knowing grin on his face. "Come on, everything Fury knows, I know, remember?"

Steve rubs a hand over his face. It's not that he'd hoped to keep the whole thing a secret, just that he'd hoped to have it all figured out before anyone else found out. But with Tony Stark in your life, that wasn't exactly possible, and he should have seen that coming. Not much he can do about it anyway.

"Thanks, Tony," he says instead. "For the invite."

Tony's smile goes from cocky to genuine, as if Steve accepting his offer is the best thing that's happened to him all day. "Great! I'll tell JARVIS to expect you. And don't worry about Maria. She's scary as hell, but she'll come around. After all, who wouldn't want to be bonded to Captain America?"

And with that, he flips down his visor and takes off in a swirl of dust. Steve stands there as Iron Man disappears into the blue sky. He shakes his head, a smile on his face at the suddenness of both Tony's arrival and departure.

The smile fades as Iron Man disappears into the distance, and his mind turns to Maria, as inevitable as the tide. He can still feel it, like an itch between his shoulders that he can't reach. There's a warm spot in his head teaming with the bright echoes of Maria's mind, but it's like a ghost image, faint and ephemeral without the solidity of her touch. He shakes off the thoughts as soon as they form. Dwelling on them won't change anything. He's only just arrived in this century, hasn't even begun to understand the ways in which the world has changed in his absence. This, along with everything else, it's—it's just too much. 

He doesn't care if it looks like he's running. He probably is.

He spares one last glance at the majesty that is the Grand Canyon before climbing back on his bike and heading west. He's not really ready to go home yet, and seeing a different ocean appeals to him at the moment.

The rest he can worry about tomorrow.

~o~

Two months after that fateful day in the corridor of the helicarrier, Steve returns to New York. Maria knows not because she feels the relief of having her soulmate near her once more (she won't admit to that on pain of death, so don't ask). She knows because he's been quietly added to the active list.

She does not go to see him.

~o~

The mission comes together quickly. AIM has been a thorn in SHIELD's side for too many years, supplying criminal organizations the world over with biological, chemical, and alien weapons, as well as more conventional but no less terrifying ordnance. SHIELD has located one of their weapons depots, and now the race is on.

Their mandate is simple: retrieve as much intelligence as possible—including personnel, if possible—and then blow the whole place to kingdom come.

They're expecting resistance—this is AIM, after all—but they're not coming in force. A small unit can move quieter and still do just as much damage as a full-frontal assault. And while that's the mission that Steve is used to, he can do stealthy, contrary to popular belief. He did rescue the majority of what later became the Howling Commandos from Hydra by himself, after all.

He's surprised when Director Fury assigns Maria to the assault team, but he shouldn't be. Natasha and Clint are out with another team, and while he could run this op by himself, he knows Maria is a capable agent so he's glad of the help.

Predictably, the mission does not go to plan.

It's like they were waiting for the team, and now they're up to their eyeballs in AIM agents. Maria is on the other side of the open compound, trapped by the crossfire along with a handful of agents. They're supposed to be inside, grabbing intel and scientists, but that's not so much happening right now. 

Steve stops and casts a quick glance around him, calculating angles and trajectories. He calls out a warning, then sprints across the compound, bullets pinging off his shield as he picks his way to the sniper currently pinning Maria and her team down. He flings his shield, catching the guy across the forehead. Red blooms, and then he slumps forward, dead.

He hears a shout, and turns just in time to see another AIM goon breaking cover to advance on Maria's position. He doesn't think, just reacts, throwing himself at the guy and knocking him off target, rolling with the motion until he lands on top of him, his shield strapped to his back protecting him from the still-flying bullets. When he pulls back, it's to look down into sightless eyes.

When he looks up, he catches sight of Maria and her team crossing to the door they'll use to gain entry to the facility. Before she disappears into the plant, she turns and casts him a hard look.

Steve doesn't have time to wonder why as another sniper has taken up where his fallen comrade left off, and he's up and moving once again.

~o~

Maria is seething.

The plan had been for Captain America to hit the compound through the front, using his team as a distraction while Maria and her small unit infiltrated the base and gathered what they could before torching the place. Of course, the whole thing had gone to shit the second they arrived, so whatever plan they'd agreed upon in planning had been nearly useless on the ground.

That didn't excuse Steve from breaking away to come rescue her like some damsel in distress.

The quinjets have barely landed on the tarmac, agents spilling out to head to medical or the showers when Maria turns, catching Steve off guard. She reaches for his hand, some instinct shouting at her to connect, something she's helpless to fight, swamped as she is with adrenaline and this roiling anger burning inside her. The Sharing is almost overwhelming; Steve's emotions are clear, fierce. He's feeling pride and satisfaction in a job well done, concern for those injured in the raid, and an overwhelming protectiveness that's nearly suffocating her.

"What the hell was that about?" she barks.

Steve looks at her, his confusion radiating off him in waves. "What was what?"

"Back there," she says, dropping his hand and poking him in the chest with her finger. "Breaking away from your assignment to rescue me. You could have gotten those guys killed. I'm not some helpless woman that needs your protection. I've been doing this a long time; I can handle myself."

"And I don't doubt that you can, _Agent_ Hill," he says, leaning on her title a little. "But if I hadn't taken out that sniper, you wouldn't have been able to get inside."

"We had it handled, _Captain_ ,” she fires back. "Your job was to provide the distraction. My job was to get the intel."

"And if I hadn't pulled off my assignment, you and your team might not have gotten inside," he says. "Sometimes we have to improvise to make a plan work. I learned that when I was with the Howling Commandos."

"What if someone had gotten hurt because you pulled away?" Maria asks. 

"Which is why I called out to the team before I moved off," Steve says. "I'm responsible for their safety on the mission. You don't think I'd actually compromise that by abandoning my team, do you?"

Maria has no answer for that. She doesn't think Captain America would ever compromise a mission for a personal agenda, but the fact remains that he pulled out of his assignment to come after her, and that knowledge sits like a rock in her belly.

"I don't need a hero, Captain," she says, low and quiet. "Remember that the next time we're in the field together."

She doesn't bother looking behind her as she walks away, but she hears his reply just the same.

"Duly noted."

~o~

Steve is standing on the balcony of Stark Tower, looking out over the vast landscape of Manhattan. The crisp fall breeze ruffles his hair as he considers how different the city looks than the one he remembers. 

New York has always been a teaming hub of activity, the city pulsing with the heartbeat of thousands of souls going about their daily lives. He still remembers sitting on the fire escape at night, listening to the sounds of life going on all around him. In that respect, things haven't changed. Only now, it's millions of people and the cacophony has risen to deafening levels. Not that it matters much. Way up here at the top of the Tower, he can hardly hear a thing, just the gentle rushing of the wind and the echoes of car horns.

"You appear to be thinking deep thoughts."

Steve turns, seeing Pepper Potts cross the balcony to join him at the rail. He shrugs. "Not really. I was just thinking that New York hasn't changed all that much in seventy years. More noise, but otherwise, it's pretty much the same."

"That must be reassuring," Pepper says, offering a gentle smile.

"Some days it is, some days it isn't," Steve says. 

He doesn't elaborate, but he knows she'll understand. Out of all of them, Pepper seems to be the one who gets that it's sometimes harder knowing that things aren't really so different, that it feels like his New York is right around the corner. Except it isn't, and it's those crushing moments of realization that hurt worse than just about anything else.

There are the smaller differences, too, that take him by surprise at odd moments. People touch more now than they used to, and more people go without gloves, as if they're hoping that life-altering moment will come at the Starbuck's or the dry cleaners. Lives are open books in a way they never used to be, lived 140 characters at a time, making him feel like a relic from a bygone era.

Of course, that's what he is, but instead of making him feel welcome in this brave new world, it only serves to show just how out of place he feels.

They stand that way for long moments, just sharing the view and the quiet comfort of each other's presence. Pepper's the one to break the silence, as she almost always is.

"Are you okay?" she asks, laying a hand on his arm. "Tony told me about Maria, and I just—are you okay, I mean, really okay?"

The worry in her eyes is clear, and Steve thinks this must be what it's like to have an older sister, someone who'll worry over you and be protective and commiserate with you when it all goes to hell.

He takes a deep breath, trying to find that peace he remembers when he was a kid. It's not there, of course, hasn't been there for a while, but it doesn't stop him from wanting it. Instead, he straightens up and gives Pepper a lopsided smile.

"I keep thinking I should just move to DC," he says. "I'm doing more with SHIELD, and as much as I appreciate Tony's hospitality, it's hard being here with all the memories. This is still New York, but it's not _my_ New York. But she's in DC, and I just—I don't think either of us was ready for this, you know? I don't think either of us was what the other had in mind, and instead of dealing with it, we just push it away."

"I have a soulmate, you know," she says, offering a piece of herself like she so rarely does.

Steve looks at her, surprised. "I thought Tony said he didn't believe in all that stuff?"

Pepper smiles at him. "It isn't Tony."

"It's not?" Steve says. They always seem so in sync that he's honestly surprised, but he can't really think of another person he's seen Pepper close to. "If you don't mind my asking, who is it?"

"I don't mind," she says. "It's Happy."

"Happy?" Steve says, utterly shocked. "Happy Hogan? Tony's bodyguard? But I thought you and Tony—"

"We are together," she says. "Happy and I bonded not long after I met Tony. Not long after I met and _fell in love with_ Tony. He understood that. It's more important to him that both of us are happy, and if being together makes us happy, he's okay with that. We still Share; he's still my best friend. It's non-traditional, but—"

"But you're a non-traditional girl," Steve finishes for her. 

"Exactly," she says, smiling at him. "My point is, your relationship can be whatever you want it to be, but your lives will be richer if you've got one at all, even if it's just friendship. And maybe that's a good place to start. You hardly knew each other before you bonded. Start with friendship and see where it goes."

Steve thinks about it for a moment. It's true that he didn't really know her before they bonded, but he knew enough to respect her. He honestly does like Maria. She reminds him a little of Peggy, so maybe the universe knew what it was doing when it bonded them. He has no idea why Maria seems to be ignoring their bond, but he knows there's only one way to find out whether they can meet in the middle: they need to talk about this.

"Thanks, Pepper."

"You're welcome." Pepper links her arm through his. "Now, let's go inside. You can help me and Bruce tear Tony away from the workshop for a nice dinner for a change."

Steve smiles, dutifully following her inside. Tomorrow, he promises himself. Tomorrow he'll deal with the Maria problem.

~o~

When they finally get together, there are far less fireworks than anyone who knows them would have expected. It's more like the long, deep exhale when arriving home. And despite their friends asking (in Tony's case, repeatedly), all Steve or Maria will ever say is they are grateful to have each other for a soulmate.

~o~

The knock startles her out of the report she's been reading—or trying to read, at least—for the last hour. She's surprised to find it's after ten when she checks the time on her phone. 

She's sort of surprised that it's so late, making her even more confused as to who her visitor could be. Fury wouldn't bother to ring; he'd just walk right on in like he owns the place. And no one who shouldn't be in the building is getting past the former SHIELD agent manning the door, so she's pretty sure it's not an assassin.

What she isn't expecting is Steve Rogers waiting on the other side of the door.

"Captain," she says, surprised.

"Ma'am," he says, nodding respectfully at her.

This should bother her, she knows, this respectful distance that makes them sound like perfect strangers. And it does, but she doesn't know what to do about it, and isn't sure she should do anything. But when Steve raises his eyebrow, clearly wondering if they're just going to stand there in the doorway of her apartment all night, she swings the door wide and invites him in.

With the door shut tight and her back turned to him, she takes a calming breath, and then another. The impulse to touch is nearly overwhelming, but that's not going to solve anything. They'll still be who they are at the end of the Sharing, and they'll still bruise each other with the knowledge that they aren't what the other wants. 

Well, that's not strictly true, but she's not going to admit to that either.

"Is everything okay?"

She jumps—honest to god, and she's glad it's Steve here and not Fury or else she'd never live it down—and spins around, blinking the panic out of her eyes before she answers.

"Yes, I'm fine." His raised eyebrow says he doesn't believe her, but he keeps his mouth shut. "Would you like something to drink?"

His lips quirk up in an almost smile. "Some water would be nice."

She tries not to be absurdly glad as she hurries into the kitchen, taking advantage of the few moments it takes to grab a glass and fill it with water from the fridge to calm herself down. She's used to being unflappable in any and all circumstances, but with Steve, Maria feels out of her depth and off-balance. It's not a fun feeling.

When she returns to the living room, she finds him standing at the windows, admiring the view of the Mall. She loves that about this place: SHIELD could have chosen any building to house their agents, but they'd chosen one with good views. Not that she gets to enjoy that view very often; her hours are erratic and she's not even home half the time, but when she is, it's nice to have something to look at that isn't the brick wall of the next building over.

She hands him the glass; he murmurs a quiet _thank you_ as he takes it, carefully not touching her. She's torn between being grateful and maybe slightly disappointed, despite her earlier resolve.

When his glass is half empty, he sets it aside and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I thought maybe we could talk," he says to the window.

She's standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, so she can see his face in the reflection of the window. There's something in his eyes now, something like longing mixed with regret, and it's so sorrowful that her heart melts a little. She doesn't know if she put that look there, or if it's something—or someone—else, but the pain that brings feels the same. 

She sighs heavily. "Yeah."

But, despite that, neither of them says anything. The minutes tick by, and the silence lengthens, growing uncomfortable the longer it goes on. She isn't sure what she should say, if there's anything she can say that would make the hurt she's already caused any better. 

She's become acutely aware, over the last weeks and months, that Steve has been respectful of her distance. He hasn't pushed for more, hasn't demanded an explanation for why she's not willing to try. It's so _Captain America_ of him that she's begun to feel that she might have been wrong to shut him out, to close the door on more because of her own insecurities. 

But just when she's ready to open her mouth—does, in fact, get as far as taking the breath that will allow words to spill forth—his gentle voice breaks the silence that's wrapped around them.

"I kissed Peggy, you know." He glances at her, blushing just a little. "Peggy Carter. She and I—well, we were supposed to have a date. After the war. She knew me, back before Rebirth, and she didn't treat me any differently. I thought, maybe, after the war, we'd—well," he says, shrugging, "we didn't. The kiss was nice, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes when nothing happened. I'm sure she saw the same in mine. And then—well, you know the rest."

"I'm sorry," Maria says, because what else can she say. She hadn't really stopped to think—even though she knows damned well that Peggy Carter helped found SHIELD—about the fact that there might have been someone else, someone Steve had wanted to bond with back then.

"You remind me of her, in some ways," he says. He turns a little, leans his shoulder against the glass. "Peggy was as tough as they come. She could hold her own in a fight, and she was smart. I'd never met a woman who could out-think the men, but she could think circles around most of them. It was a welcome change from most of the women on the USO tour."

"You mean they weren't rocket scientists?" Maria says, a sly smile tipping her lips, despite her best efforts to keep it in check.

Steve just chuckles. "They weren't hired for their brains, that's for sure." He sobers a little, and his eyes take on that faraway gleam people get when they're remembering different times. "The thing is, for as much as I wanted it to be her, I think deep down inside, I knew it wouldn't be. But I don't think I fully understood that until the plane was going down."

"And then you woke up and everything had changed, and you started to feel guilty that you were glad it wasn't her."

"Pretty much," Steve says, nodding.

Maria turns leaning back against the window, her hands folded behind her, head down. "My grandparents were bonded. The two happiest people I've ever known. So in tune with each other that they could finish each other's sentences, even when they weren't touching."

"I never knew anyone who was bonded," he says, smiling wistfully. "Saw bonded couples on the street every now and then. They looked… happy."

"Yeah," she says, echoing his smile. "They met during World War II. Gran was an Army nurse, and Granddad was an Army Air Corps pilot. They'd met a few times, but always in passing. It wasn't until V-E day that they actually bonded, while they were celebrating Germany's surrender."

"A lot of bondings happened during the war," Steve says. "We saw it all the time. A nurse is treating a wounded soldier, when bam! They're bonded. Or a guy asks a girl to dance. Or just bumping into each other in the line at the commissary. Our uniforms didn't come with gloves, so it was easy to touch, skin-to-skin. And the War brought people together in ways they hadn't before. It was amazing sometimes. Watching it happen."

"Gran's told me the stories," Maria says. "Her two best friends from nursing school bonded at USO dances."

"They were the lucky ones." 

She can hear the wistfulness in his voice, and her mind automatically goes to that place where Steve lives inside of her, conjuring up a picture of the way Peggy looked the last time he'd seen her on leave. She feels a stab of regret for him, and her palms itch to reach out, to touch and Share her understanding. But she holds back; she's not ready yet, and she's not sure he is either.

"When they got home, Gran quit nursing and they started a family," Maria says. "I asked her once, why she quit, why she didn't go back part time after her kids had grown up. She said she did it for Granddad. I didn't understand back then; I thought maybe she felt like she _should_ stay home and take care of Granddad and their family, do what was expected of her. It always made me a little sad that she'd quit her career for him."

"Did he stay in the Army? After the war?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, he did," she says. "I guess that's why she didn't try to pick up her career after the war. It was hard enough when they had to move because he'd been transferred. She'd have been changing jobs every couple of years, which is no way to build a career. I guess I never really understood that when I was a kid."

"That it wasn't that she hadn't wanted to, just that she wanted to be married—bonded—more."

"That, and that even though she didn't work for a living, it didn't mean she wasn't still working," she said. "She taught piano, and volunteered at the local hospitals when her kids were older. She did what she could given the life they led. And she never once regretted it."

"She sounds like an amazing woman," he says, ghosting a smile.

"She was," she says, returning the smile. "I always wanted to be just like her when I grew up: strong, wise, compassionate. I guess one out of three isn't bad."

"I think I'd have to disagree with that assessment," he says. "You are strong, but you're also the smartest woman in any room; you can think circles around a lot of the men, and you're not afraid to let them know that. And just because you've had to toughen up to do the job doesn't mean you aren't compassionate. I saw how you took care of people after the battle. How you talked to your crew, tried to help them come to terms with their loss."

Maria smiles, because she thought she'd been much more subtle than that, but he isn't wrong. For as much as she'd wanted to push off her own grief, she'd understood that others weren't able to. So, she'd made allowances, let people talk about it with her, given them something to focus on that wasn't all the death and destruction. She hadn't been sure that it would be enough at the time, but maybe she'd helped.

Steve's watching her as the thoughts churn through her mind, and she finds herself aching to know what he's thinking. There's an easy way to find out, and for a moment she wonders if it's the right thing to do. But, second-guessing and pushing each other away haven't gotten them anywhere, and she's finally just too tired to do that anymore.

She reaches out, her hand hovering in the air a silent offering: his choice if he takes it or not, but she knows she has to be the one to take the first step. He looks at her, a raised eyebrow asking what words can't: _are you sure?_ She nods once. She's as sure as she'll ever be, and she'll never know if she can do this if she doesn’t at least try.

The soft glide of skin on skin sends tingles through her, the opening tendrils of the Sharing gather speed until it's a tidal wave of memory and emotion. When she feels like she's going to collapse under the weight of it all, his arms slide around her, holding her up as his touch moves from her hand to her cheek, cradling her in a protective embrace that feels far from stifling, more like being cherished as her grandmother had always told her it would.

She sighs as she melts into him, finally able to let the burden go and just be. It's an amazing feeling, like coming home, and she has to wonder why she waited so long.

"Because if we'd tried to do this months ago, I don't think we'd have been able to," he says, his voice a rumble in her ear where it rests against his chest. "We resented each other too much for not being who or what we thought we wanted."

"And you're okay with that?" she asks quietly.

"I think the universe knew I'd need someone to feel safe with," he says without shame. "Someone who could help me see that where I am now isn't a curse."

"And I needed someone who could see me for who I am," she says, knowing it's true to the soles of her feet.

They stay like that for what seems like forever, just basking in the ebb and flow of thoughts and emotions between them. The shadows outside move and grow as night deepens, but here in this place, Maria feels like nothing bad could ever happen. It's a fool's errand, of course, given the nature of their lives and the work they do. But for just a little while, it's nice to pretend.

"No matter what," Steve says, some time later, "I will always try to come home to you. But even if I can't, I know you'll be alright."

"You're Captain America," she scoffs. "Of course you'll come home to me." She pauses, then a thought strikes her. "Oh lord, your fangirls are never going to forgive me for this, are they?"

He pulls back a little, looking down into her eyes with a raised eyebrow. "My fangirls?"

"Fangirls," she says with a nod. "You know, the ones that swoon over you every time you appear in public."

"Eh," he says, shrugging. "I never really paid them much attention, to be honest. There was this hot chick in a uniform that caught my eye, you see."

"Even then?" she asks, curious and a little bit hopeful.

"From the start," he says, nodding, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

Maria smiles. Even if it's not true (and she's not sure Captain America is capable of lying, so it probably is) it's nice to know this didn't start the day they became soulmates. 

It's nice to know it didn't end that day, either. 

It's not love, not yet, but she knows now that they'll get there. Eventually.

~Finis


End file.
